


Hey, Golden Boy

by bannanachan



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bannanachan/pseuds/bannanachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Naegi Makoto's life on Jabberwock Island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, Golden Boy

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Major endgame spoilers for Super Dangan Ronpa 2.

I am too late to save the impostor.

We had left them on the island alone. They were safer that way, better off where the Future Foundation couldn’t track them. Which they would, Togami said, if we didn't hurry back. It was well past time for the six of us to face the music. It would be ages before they needed our help again, anyway.

This is the logic I repeat to myself on the boat ride over until I feel like the words have drilled themselves into my brain. I couldn’t have known. It isn’t my fault.

He isn’t very impressive in real life compared to how he must have imagined himself. A few weeks ago, when the Foundation first retrieved him, he was emaciated. Worse than that, he was hollow – barely speaking, taking commands like a soldier. With no one left to be, I guess he had given up being anything. Lying in what now clearly resembles a stainless-steel coffin, I can’t help but feel he looks even emptier than before.

A few hours later, the second signal shutting down isn’t much of a surprise.

***

We talk to Alter Ego. I take a breath before I open it up, and wish for the dozenth time that I didn’t have to deal with all these computers. I can’t get used to seeing Chihiro’s face like this, the ghost of a ghost all in green pixels. He probably would have been happy to know how useful it’s been. For my part, all I can do is try not to flinch every time I see Chihiro’s disembodied head.

It speaks in a voice almost identical to his, but through the speaker it’s distorted. Metallic on louder syllables, and flat sometimes. “I’m sorry, Naegi; my program malfunctioned, so I don’t know how it happened. I managed to boot myself back up, but… I guess it was too late.”

Kyoko takes over typing for me, seeing how crestfallen I look. _It’s not your fault. When do you think you can fix it?_

Alter Ego makes a face. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. I’ll work as fast as I can, and I already started on it, but I’ve been completely shut out. It will be a while before I know what happened, let alone how to fix it. Please bear with me.”

_Thank you. Let us know if anything changes._

“Right!” It speaks with such determination that I actually smile a little. I’m not surprised that it’s stuck. The program was complicated enough even before Junko wrapped her virus around it.

So what now? Asahina, Hagakure, and Fukawa are, for the time being, out of the picture. If things worked as planned, they’re back with the Future Foundation by now, probably being interrogated, but in no real danger. Togami, Kyoko, and I are on our own.

Kyoko calls it Takutsubo syndrome, but basically, it’s shock. Their hearts had almost stopped, and then moments after, their brain activity stopped entirely.

“If we end the program, will they come back?” I ask. She hesitates, and I know the answer right then, even though the one she gives out loud is “maybe,” is really no.

“Why don’t we just turn their systems off and bury them, then?” Togami asks. “We have the control to separate each unit off.”

Kyoko glares at him, but I wish she wouldn’t. To Togami, this must be practical, not cruel. It may even be a kindness in his mind. Maybe it would be: high-tech life support pods aren’t the most respectful of resting places. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Even if they do never wake up… it’s not my call to make. And I’d rather assume life than death any day. 

Alter Ego already tried to send a message to Nanami, but I’m not surprised that it couldn’t. Junko would never do things halfway: if she’s locked us out, that’s it. No monitors, no communication, nothing. I can only hope Nanami and Usami are functioning at all, although I doubt they have much control left even if they are.

I feel like such an inferior idiot, ages after I thought I’d gotten over that particular complex. I don’t know anything about computers, certainly not stuff this complicated. I’m supposed to be this world’s savior, one of Hope’s Peak’s only survivors. I’m supposed to be the embodiment of hope itself. Yet here I am, relying on a program to save children. No, that’s not fair – they aren’t children. But they are victims, ones who I gave a shelter. Now they are dying in it.

Togami goes back to the ship the next morning to see if the Future Foundation has found us. On his return, he explains that the ship received a transmission last night from Hagakure. It was garbled (even for Hagakure), but as near as he could tell it indicated that the three of them were taken into custody several hours back. I feel a pang of guilt over letting them do this alone, but I remind myself that they chose to go, even if it was in my stead.

I start going on walks around the islands, taking inventory of everything I see. I think that we should make plans to disarm the weapons facility, only to remember that we have no place to get rid of the weapons to. I go to the pharmacy and scan the ransacked shelves for anything that could be dangerous. I go to the hospital and trace my fingertips along the beds, averting my gaze from the small metal tables resting beside them, still laden with sharp metal instruments.

It becomes impossible to go anywhere without imagining a murder scene there. Half the time, a hundred possibilities flash by in an instant, and I zoom in on every detail of my surroundings, the door handle, the color of the furniture, the placement of the banners on the wall. It makes me dizzy and I have to sit down to keep from falling over. Half the time, the scene is jarringly specific instead, and I’m left deciphering the mystery of a corpse that isn’t even there.

Can Nanami really solve all this, the way Kyoko and I did? She’s only a computer, after all. Programmed, for the most part, by another computer. What are her chances? What are their chances, if she doesn’t - would Junko really kill them all? I push the thoughts to the back of my mind as hard as I can. Nanami will be good enough. She has to be.

The first few nights, I sleep in a bag on the floor of the control room in the administration building, the green glow from the pods keeping me awake whenever my own thoughts don’t. Finally, I wake to find Kyoko has moved my stuff to the cabin next to hers without asking. She tells me to report back there in the evening. She pretends not to be concerned and, out of politeness, I pretend not to notice. Kyoko is intensely good at acting like she doesn’t care. It used to make me angry, but lately I feel more jealous than anything.

After that I try to stay in my room for a while, but it proves no easier than wandering around was. I talk strategy with Togami and Kyoko, write letters to Asahina and Hagakure that they will probably never read, read books that Togami brings me from the island library, and unpack the few belongings I brought here. I try to keep busy, but sometimes my hands shake, and my mind wanders off until I can’t remember what I was doing the moment previous. Other times, I just feel bored, and it makes me so guilty that I want to disappear.

Kyoko talks to Alter Ego every day, and every day it confirms what I already know. There is nothing for us to do but wait.

The way things are going, Koizumi’s body shutting down is almost a relief.

It happens in the middle of the day, and I briefly wonder what alibi the killer has come up with until forcing myself to remember that it doesn’t matter. Even though I know who the killer is now, even before her body gives out too. Having read most of Hope’s Peak’s old files, I’m not as clueless as they might be. Moreover, I know Junko. There’s nothing like a murder to provide a motive for another murder.

And surely it was Peko, rather than Kuzuryuu. I didn’t know either of them back at Hope’s Peak, but I read the report from when they were picked up. She didn’t even have a sword, but she put up more of a fight than any other student had thus far, slinging rocks and curse words until they had promised her that he would be kept safe. Before then, I didn’t think that Junko’s pawns could even feel love like that. It had given me hope.

I feel that hope leech out of me when Kuzuryuu’s signals go wild moments before Pekoyama’s do. For a second I think that maybe it was him after all, but when her brain stops and his doesn’t, we know it must have been something else. None of us are doctors, and we can’t see what happened, so we don’t understand it. But my heart rises in my throat, watching his face contort with pain and sweat cover his forehead inside that tiny, controlled pod.

We sit a vigil until he stabilizes, listening in silence to his erratic heartbeat over the speaker. Finally it slows, and Alter Ego checks his vitals. His heart almost gave out, but it’s stable now. I breathe a sigh of relief, feeling my own heart beat dial down, but the tightness in my chest remains.

Kyoko walks me to my room that night and I don’t object, numb from the day’s events. She holds my hand and I clutch hers, and we make it all the way to my room before I get up the courage to speak, just as she’s leaving to tuck in for the night herself.

“Do you think they deserve saving?”

A lot of people I know nowadays would probably tell me what they think I want to hear. With one very notable exception, that’s been my life for the last two years: an endless stream of people telling me whatever I want to hear. But I trust her. Kyoko’s entire life was about justice, even before what happened at Hope’s Peak. If anyone is going to tell me no, it’s her.

“Yes.” She says, and it isn’t what I wanted to hear.

I thank Kyoko and stare at the ceiling of my bedroom until I can fall asleep.

***

It takes a while for the idea of a cemetery to click. I’ve been so adamant about not removing the bodies, about not even treating them like bodies as much as possible. It’s not like me to act like there’s not hope that they might come back: hope is what I do. But after sitting up half the night last night, I realized that it isn’t what they do. The ones we do save – who knows what they’ll be like when they awake? Maybe they won’t see hope in living corpses. Maybe they won’t see hope in anything. Maybe they won’t even think of each other, but if they do, even in the slightest, they deserve a place to mourn.

I don’t put it that way to Togami and Kyoko, though; I just ask them whether they think Asahina would have wanted a grave for Sakura, and they agree without complaint.

So two days after Pekoyama’s death, we rise early and begin constructing a graveyard in the park on the central island. Most of the morning is spent gathering suitable rocks, none of which are as big or as smooth as they should be. I carve the names in as carefully as I can, but it still ends up looking crude. At least it gives me something to do for the day which, I privately admit, I could probably use.

By the time we are done, it’s nearly evening, and all of us are starving.

“I’m going back.” Togami declares, staring at the sun as it sets over the horizon. “Stay as long as you like, but I have no intention of chasing after the fool who does, no matter how late it gets. If dying of exposure helps you sleep better at night, be my guest.”

He turns on his heel and leaves, and I don’t try to stop him. I don’t know how long Kyoko and I stay there, lost in thoughts of every unmarked grave that we have ever seen and those we never will. It must be nearly an hour, but she doesn’t say anything, only holds my hand and looks. Eventually I feel it tighten, and when I turn to look, her eyes are closed and there is a tear on her cheek.

Finally, her grip loosens and she looks at me. “Let’s go.”

It would be so easy to touch her, to reach over the inches between us and stroke her hair and tell her everything is okay, that my hand almost reaches out to do it. But she wouldn’t forgive me. Instead, I squeeze her hand one more time and we go back to the hotel, my legs feeling like lead. In the morning, I am sure things will be better, because they’re always better in the morning. For tonight, all I can do is eat until I am less empty and stare at the ceiling until my eyelids become heavy.

And first thing in the morning, it turns out I am right. Things are better. Alter Ego has news.

“I achieved visual and auditory access to a majority of the cameras last night. It’s, um, not that much – I can’t change the programming at all, but you should be able to tell what’s happening there from now on.”

Again, Kyoko takes over the typing. _Have you seen Nanami and Usami?_

“Yes!” It chirps this so happily that I can’t help but smile myself. “As you had guessed, they’ve got no power, but other than that I think they’re safe. Mono – ah, Usami, she got the brunt of it, but she’s still got some juice left and she’s been trying to help them. Nanami too. I don’t think Junko knows what she is, or if she does she’s been leaving her well enough alone anyway. I wouldn’t worry too much about them.”

It is the best news I have heard since we got here, and my heartbeat rises thinking of what this means. We made progress – we are one step closer to getting them out of there safely. It’s evidence that we can make a difference in their world, one could be the difference between life and death for some of them. For me, it is hope.

And it is, finally, something to do with my day. Which is nice. At first.

Watching them, I remember what it was like for us. How there were good times, even under the worst circumstances; spending time with people, learning things about them they had never told anyone, becoming their friend. How there were people who never gave up on me once, not for a second. After struggling for so long, it is finally easy to believe in hope again. Even for them – especially for them.

But I remember things I didn’t want to, too. I remember that people are selfish, sometimes, even when it doesn’t make sense. And that’s fine, that’s how people are, and I have no right to blame them. I don’t blame them. But I don’t like to see it. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit.

The worst of it is Komaeda. I’d like to think that I took well to the idea of there being someone else like me out there. But those memories are still so fuzzy that I don’t really know. And it’s different now anyway, when he’s one of them, when he’s trapped in a machine. When I see him in person, how our eyes are the same. When I hear him talk - it’s like when you hear your voice played back from a recording, and it’s strange because even though it sounds all wrong to you, you know this is what other people always hear.

He’s like that. Like everything I ever stood for twisted, and it’s wrong in a way there aren’t words for. And I am too afraid, still, to ask the question that is burning a hole in my throat, on my tongue, in my lungs where the air is waiting to come out –

_Do I sound like that?_

When Monobear announces the motive for the round and he gets sick, I give Kyoko the command chair and tell her not to let me near the monitors for a while. She says she’s sorry, but doesn’t ask if there’s anything she can do, and I go back to my cabin and stay there.

At first I decide that I shouldn’t ask for updates, but then I decide that I can’t handle it so I ask anyway. Kyoko and Togami agree to it as long as I don’t ask for details. Three of them are sick. I do not know who, other than Komaeda, but in the real world, their bodies are under considerable stress, though any cure Alter Ego and Kyoko know has had no results – psychosomatic, she says. Three others are staying at the hospital with the sick ones, and they are talking to the rest on communicators.

Then four of them are sick, a few days later, and when Togami tells me this there is a twist to his lip and a refusal to look me in the eye that makes me break the rules and ask who it is. All he says is that it was someone staying at the hospital, and I should ask Kyoko when I see her at dinner. When I do, she just looks at me the same way he did and tells me that it doesn’t matter.

After that I don’t see her for a while. Togami says it’s because the sick ones are getting worse and she’s busy, and I believe him, but I can’t help missing her. Or wondering if she’s avoiding me. Maybe that’s selfish: I don’t know. All I know is that I feel awful.

Three or four days later, she knocks on my door early in the morning. It takes what little energy I have to get up and answer, knowing what I’ll be greeted with when I do.

“Saionji and Mioda are dead.”

Dead on my feet, I follow her to the control room. Togami awaits us, typing back and forth to Alter Ego. He stops when he sees me and types something new. On the monitor, Chihiro’s face changes to a mixture of embarrassment and pity.

“Naegi.” It says, obviously a little surprised, but maintaining an upbeat tone with reasonable success. “Ah, good morning. I’m so sorry about what happened. How are you doing?”

Togami looks at me expectantly.

“I’m fine.” I say, a little too sharply. “Could someone tell me what happened, please?”

Kyoko relays the story – slowly, cautiously, looking me in the eye the entire time. She treats me like a mystery these days, analyzing my expression moment to moment, the slump in my shoulders and my refusal to look her in the eye. It makes me feel like an object, but I’m too distracted by what she’s saying to care.

“What about Tsumiki?” I ask when she finishes, keeping my voice level.

“Nothing yet.” She replies. “We’re keeping a close eye. It probably won’t be long, though.”

“Are the others safe?”

“Komaeda and Owari are suffering a few after effects, but they’ll be fine. Kuzuryuu and Kamakura weren’t affected.”

I flinch at the name, and she notices. “Sorry. I mean Hinata.”

“It’s fine.” I say, though it isn’t. “Alter Ego – have you made any progress at all?”

Togami types and it frowns. “A little, yes. I’m so sorry, Naegi – I’m working hard, but I can’t seem to get any further in. Her security is very tight. I promise I will update you the moment something changes. I have an idea that I’m going to run some simulations on; please be patient with me until then.”

I want to say that I can’t be patient any more; I want to say that I am tired of being pitied by a machine and by my friends and that I don’t need pity or even deserve it compared to them. But that would just make it worse.

“I understand. Please continue to let me know if anything happens. Thank you for your hard work.”

I sound more like a machine than it does, but when Togami types my reply it can’t tell the difference. “Thank you, Naegi. Please take care until then.”

The display monitor blinks out. I sigh more audibly than intended and catch Kyoko shooting me a glare. I don’t even care that she’s angry; Alter Ego didn’t hear me, and I’d rather she be mad than pity me.

I take a moment to look down at the glass cases where Mioda and Saionji lie sleeping. Saionji especially looks frightfully peaceful, long blonde hair splayed neatly around her kimono and a bow still secured just right. Not a lot of ironing boards around after the apocalypse, so the fabric is a little wrinkled, but every tuck and fold is in just the right place. Bathed in green behind the glass, she’s so beautiful she almost looks unreal. Certainly, not dead.

I remember at Hope’s Peak, the way the bodies looked after a few hours. Petrified, some of them caked in blood, skin turning green at the edges. How they smelled. How they froze. The arch of Sakura’s spine in the chair, the smile on her face, the unhealing scars at Chihiro’s wrists where the wire held him up. Bodies preserved in a freezer, Ikusaba’s rotted flesh on fire, bloodstains in the shower, balls thudding into flesh. But it made sense.

“Can you take care of the graves?” I ask. “I’d like to stay here. With Tsumiki.”

“Will you be all right by yourself?” Kyoko asks, her tone carefully neutral.

I know that she’d leave me alone either way, but I lie anyway. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

She does not say anything more and I do not look up, just hear the sound of the doors closing behind them as they leave. I walk – slowly – to the other side of the lab, and turn my attention to Tsumiki. She’s the opposite of Saionji in most ways, ragged hair and pale skin clinging like glue to her bones. Her shape doesn’t help the impression, long and tall like someone stretched her out on a board.

I saw her tapes, when she got picked up. She was feral, slashing with a knife, biting and pulling at her rescuers’ hair when it got taken and sobbing and screaming all the while. Tsukimi had loved Junko, loved her like a martyr and a parent and a lover all at once. Whatever had been left intact of that girl after her childhood and her despair and the apocalypse itself, it shattered when Junko died.

The thought creeps into my head without my wanting it to, and I touch the glass over Tsumiki’s chest, watching her breathe and listening to her heart beat over the speaker. _Did she love her back?_

Junko would do anything to get you on her side. To the Future Foundation, this was a fundamental truth. It turned up in every piece of research about her, every personal history of every agent on either side, every professional analysis. If I didn’t know it from reports and experts, I’d know it from when I met her. Junko Enoshima had no limits on what she would do to herself or others for her cause. In a lot of ways, she was just as devoted to her servants as they were to her.

I don’t want her to have loved her back. I don’t want her to have loved anything besides her own despair. The idea that Junko, twisted as she was, could have loved and loved sincerely is more frightening to me than anything I have seen in the last two years, including the girl herself. Love without hope is so vile and explosive and sick, and that corruption is so much worse than death or even despair. This thought runs through my mind on a loop until my knees feel weak.

Even if she did love her, it does nothing to stop what happens next. The heart monitor begins to beep too fast. I watch Tsumiki as she twitches, chest heaving and muscles straining through a wall of sleep like a broken puppet. There are a few more beeps and then a short drone before her body jump starts to life. But now that I’ve watched it in person I know truly that this is it, that Tsumiki is dead, that she will stay this way forever now no matter what her heart monitor says.

Just barely, I see Kyoko and Togami return out the corner of my eye as I fall to the ground and crumple, head crashing to the steel floor, and I close my eyes and the world is dark.

***

It takes a minute to register the dim light when I wake up, and my first instinct is to cover my face and hide. I don’t want to be awake yet. I don’t want to do anything.

Togami is sitting next to my bed with a book in his hand. He doesn’t seem to notice my waking, so after a minute or two of silence I shuffle the sheets around until he notices me. His eyes widen and he takes a moment to survey me. It’s a lot like how Kyoko’s looked at me lately, and I shift around awkwardly. Finally, he lifts his eyes back to my face and closes his book.

“How are you?” He asks.

I take a moment to weigh my words before responding. “… Confused. Do you know what happened to me?”

“You passed out. Do you remember?”

I nod in acknowledgment, and he nods back. “You’ve been out for a few hours, but other than that bump on your head, you seem to be okay. I’ll get some water for you before Kirigiri comes.”

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach, but I manage to nod anyway. Togami stands and exits, leaving me a few moments alone to gather my thoughts properly. What happened? It’s not like I don’t remember, but everything feels blurry. The spot where my head hit the floor hurts like hell, and it pulses as I try to come up with an explanation for my circumstances. I’ve been eating and drinking normally, and sleeping right, and I haven’t felt sick, so why?

A click at the door signals Togami’s reentry, and I sit up to retrieve a glass of water from him. The motion makes me dizzy. After I finish the glass, he takes it and stands again. “I’m going to get Kirigiri. Stay put.”

“Okay.” It’s not like I have a choice.

He stops about a foot from the door and hesitates a moment before turning back to me.

“Naegi.”

“What, Togami?”

He hesitates another beat before shaking his head tersely, gaze directed at the ground. “… Nothing.”

I close my eyes and hear the door click. I wish I could just go back to sleep. Less because I’m tired, though I am, and more because I’d really like to avoid what happens next.

It feels like an eternity before I hear the door click again. I turn on my side and open my eyes to see Kyoko hovering in the doorway. Her face is impassive, but her posture is falling apart compared to its usual stiffness. And her eyes are red. After a few seconds, she closes the door behind her and sits in the chair Togami left by my bedside.

“How are you feeling?” She asks.

I shrug in response. “Okay. I think. I’m… a little mixed up still.”

She sighs. “That would be an understatement.” I wince at the comment, but she continues unabated. “I’m sure Togami told you this, but you seem to be physically fine, which means you must have passed out for some other reason. I think we both know what.”

I am too tired to respond, and don’t know what I would say if I did, so she carries on. “I’ve been letting you continue on the way you’ve been lately because I didn’t know how to address it. Obviously I’ve been concerned, and so has Togami, but we both trusted you to know what was best for you. I see now that that was wrong of us. I’m sorry – we should have kept a closer watch on you. Maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad.”

“It’s not your fault.” I interrupt. “I’m the only one responsible for this – I was supposed to be the one leading you, after all, and it’s me who it’s happened to. It’s my fault no matter how you look at it.”

Kyouko huffs, her voice becoming annoyed. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not talking about who was leading who. You’re my friend, that’s what’s important. I should have seen this happening, stopped it before it started. Stopped you. But I didn’t, and now it seems we’re out of options.”

I frown. What’s that supposed to mean?

Before I can ask, she continues. “I’m sorry. But if your condition doesn’t start improving from here on out, we’re going to call the Future Foundation.”

A jolt of panic goes through me, and my face turns white. “You can’t. Kyoko, you can’t.”

“Yes, we can. They mean us no harm. Even if they are angry, they would never risk hurting us, or killing us. There’d be too much backlash among the public, they know they can’t do this without us. We might be captured, but we would be safe there.”

“It’s not about us.” I say. “Kyoko, they’ll kill them. You know that. I can’t let that happen, I won’t.”

“Then get better.” She says simply.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and bolt upright, head swimming as I stand. “You can’t do this!” I snap. “You can’t, they don’t deserve it. They’re innocent, and we’re their only hope. I know you don’t understand, Kyoko, but you can’t, it’s not their fault – they’re just like we were, they’re kids, they –”

In an instant, Kyoko stands up herself, and I’m immediately overpowered by her shouting. “Do you really think I don’t know that?! Do you really still think that Togami and I did this, did all of this – do you think I threw away half my life, all our connections, everything we’ve worked for just because you said so? Because you’re our leader? Because you’re hope? For God’s sake, Makoto, I love you, but you can be so _selfish._ ”

I stare at her for a second before sitting back down, the adrenaline and fury draining rapidly out of me. Suddenly I feel exhausted again. Slowly, she sits back down and speaks, her voice lowered and her gaze directed towards the floor.

“Of course I believe in them. I believe in them exactly as much as you do, or at least I come close. I know Togami does too, in his own way, and Asahina and Hagakure. Probably even Fukawa. You’re right, they are innocent, and it’s not right. There are so few of us left – students, humans, survivors –we can’t afford to lose anyone now. But if we had to – if it comes down to it, we can’t lose you.”

“Right.” I mutter miserably, staring at my lap. “For the cause.”

She looks up at me, and I look at her, and for the first time, I see Kyoko cry without trying to hide it. “It’s not about the cause. It’s about you. I can’t do this without you. It’s not for the cause, or hope, or – anything, it’s just you, I need you. I believe in them, I do, but they are not worth you. Not all of you. If we went back, there would be people who could take care of you like I don’t know how to. Believe me or don’t, but I don’t want this – it’s not fair and it’s not right and it’s not justice, no matter what they say. But I can’t lose you.”

I feel like passing out again, so I lay back down, pulling the sheets up around me. Again, I find myself wanting to tell her it’s okay, to look at her and reach for her and touch her hair and kiss her right on the lips. But I don’t do any of those things. I just turn on my side and close my eyes and pretend that by doing so, I can shut her out completely.

After a few minutes, I hear shifting behind me and then a click at the door. Before I hear it close, I speak up, voice close to a whisper.

“… What do you want me to _do?_ ”

“I don’t know, Naegi. Just… get better.”

The door clicks closed. I shut my eyes until I fall back to sleep, and don’t dream.

***

I wake up early the next morning to the sight of light falling through my window. Between fainting and sleeping, I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious. Probably too long, but that’s the least of my worries now.

I shift slowly to my feet and look around. The bump on my head still hurts, and I’m hungry, but my head no longer feels fuzzy and standing up doesn’t make my vision shake, so I figure it’s safe for me to get out of bed. There’s no sign of either Kyoko or Togami, which I take to mean that, for now, they’re leaving me alone. Good: my dignity has taken enough of a hit lately without being chaperoned.

I don’t really have the energy to be angry. Trying to think through it clearly, I don’t even think I should be angry. This isn’t malicious on their part. They’re trying to help me, to save me. How could I be angry at them for that? How could I treat her like she really doesn’t care, how would I know? The fact is, I haven’t thought once about her and Togami since we got here - I’ve barely even spoken to them. Some leader I turned out to be.

I don’t know where to go from here, but my stomach growls so I decide that breakfast is a good starting point. Neither Kyoko nor Togami is anywhere to be seen when I get to the dining room. I realize it must be later in the morning than I thought, so I grab a CalorieMate from our stash of rations and eat it while I walk to the control center.

Kyoko is there in the command chair when I arrive, typing something to Alter Ego. She looks up at my entrance, but shows no sign of surprise. I guess last night was all the emotional display from her I’m going to get for a while.

She types something new to the computer, and Alter Ego’s face brightens. “Oh! Good morning, Naegi. How do you feel?”

I’m more than a little tired of the question, but I remind myself that it’s sincere and try to relax. “Much better. Thank you, Alter Ego. I’m sorry to have worried you.”

Kyoko types this in, and it smiles in response. “That’s good. You should take better care of yourself, you know?”

Despite myself, I laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

Kyoko takes over then, spinning her chair around to face me. She picks up something smallish and metal from the ground and walks over to me. “Here.” She says, handing me the device.

I examine the object and frown. It looks like a handheld television, small but bulky, with a panel of unintelligible buttons and dials on the left side of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a portable monitor.” She explains. “I had Alter Ego and Togami put it together for you. The signal’s not very strong, but as long as you don’t stray too far from the command center, you should be able to watch the camera feed wherever you want. I thought it might help.”

I run my fingers over the soft metal. I’m not sure that watching is going to be good for me, considering that last time I tried it was part of what pushed me over the edge. But it’s nice to have the option, and even nicer to have the option to do so in peace, away from the bodies. It must have been a lot of work to put together, too.

“Thank you, Kyoko.” I say. “I appreciate it - really.” Spontaneously, I lean up and kiss her on the cheek, brushing her hair away from her cheek with one hand. I feel her face heat up and, when I move back, she’s blushing.

“Don’t mention it.” She says, and I smile.

After a few minutes, Kyoko has shown me enough that I think I can use the monitor on my own. I thank her again before heading out the door. I don’t know where I’m walking to until I end up at the beach near where our ship is docked, staring out at the water and watching the waves crash against its sides. It occurs to me suddenly that I don’t know how I got here.

I mean, I know how I got here; I’m not that far gone. I can remember every minute since we left Hope’s Peak in almost perfect detail - after what happened there, I made sure of it. But everything since I’ve come to this island, somehow that feels fuzzy. Not like chunks are missing, not like what Junko did to us. It’s more like everything is a movie – as if it’s not really me at all in these memories, just a character I’m watching.

And I realize as I’m watching him that they’re right; they’re not just justified, they’re right. I’ve been a mess lately. This has gotten so much worse than I thought - I didn’t think, that’s the point. I didn’t see it, and now that I do, there really is no turning back, and there wouldn’t be even if it weren’t for the threat of the Future Foundation. Not because I’m a survivor, or a savior, not for the sleeping students or Kyoko or Togami or anyone else besides me. I want to change, to get better, for me. Because this is going to kill me if I don’t.

I find a spot on the beach and sit there for a while, watching the clouds and tide wash by. Out here, where the weather is perfect and the sky and water are so clear, it’s easy to forget there even was an apocalypse. Even if it all fell apart today - if the Future Foundation was taken over, if we died here, if Junko won after all, this island would still be here. The sun would rise, the waves would crash, and one day what was left of humanity would take it back all over again. For the first time in a long time, this thought makes me feel like myself. Like the version of me that opened those doors and held his friends’ hands and walked into the world, because no matter what was there, no matter what happened, we had hope.

We still do.

The rest of that day, I don’t even open up the monitor: I just sit there on the beach watching the waves, our ship, and the sky until the sun sets and the night is covered in stars. I am late to dinner, but I greet Kyoko with a smile. And even if she looks suspicious, she smiles back.

***

By the time I get up the courage to check the monitors, they are already in the surprise house. I’m unsure if I’m more revolted by her ploy or the color scheme, and I briefly give thanks that the hell we went through was, at least, less customizable. It’s absurdly macabre, Monobear and all these kids surrounded by the trappings of a theme park. Not to mention Nidai. As for the motive, at first, it just seems strange. Not that I’d put something this terrible past her, but this isn’t like her – this isn't creative. Kill or starve to death - for her, that would be boring.

Which is initially why I start paying attention. Once more, I am glued to the monitors, watching every minute play out in the virtual landscape as it happens. Kyoko keeps a close eye on me at first, obviously ready to revoke my privileges at any time, but after I don’t crack for about a day she leaves me alone.

It’s remarkable how close they get to normal life, given the circumstances. If it were me… well, I don’t know what I’d do. I’ve been there, or nearly there, and I still don’t know. Back then, optimism came naturally to me. It was what got us out of there. Now that that isn’t happening any more, I marvel that any of the others, who never had that, even managed to get out of bed in the morning. I couldn’t, not the way I am now.

But those students - they get up in the morning. Starving, and trapped, they get up. I can’t see despair in them, not in their actions or their hearts, not even a little bit. Instead I see people who have seen acting like wild dogs comforting each other. Nidai and Akane meditating and yelling at each other and laughing. Gundam distracting Sonia from her hunger by teaching his hamsters new tricks.

And Nanami – Nanami talking to Hinata, talking to Kuzuryuu and Souda. Saving Hinata from Junko’s trap and smiling all the while. Obviously it’s easy for her - she was programmed to be the way I used to be, and she’s not experiencing hunger like the rest. But the fact remains that in her smile and the touch of her hand there is an incredible hope, and even knowing that we were the ones to put it there doesn’t cheapen it. Because for them, it’s helping.

When I really figure this out, after a few days of observation, it clicks suddenly why Junko is doing this. Because she did it before – not quite the same thing, but she was boring once before, with Celestia and Ishimaru and Yamada. When she knew that if she didn’t do something, even if it was something boring, there would be no more death. If Junko’s not creative, it means that Junko is desperate.

I am all the way on the northern island when this comes to me, and I run the whole way back to the central island without stopping. Kyoko, Togami and Alter Ego are deep in conversation when I burst in, and from the way they look when they see me I have the fleeting suspicion that it was about me, but I barely have the time to notice before Kyoko and Togami flock to me, fussing over me until I have caught my breath. After they have adequately determined that I’m not having a panic attack, I move to the command chair and begin typing.

_Alter Ego, have you tried anything new to fix the virus lately?_

Alter Ego blinks. “Define lately, please?”

_Within the last 48 hours._

It frowns and flickers. “Yes, actually. I was talking about it with Kirigiri and we decided to try approaching the issue from another direction.”

What do you mean?

I swear it looks at Kyoko then, but I don’t think it can actually look. “Well, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to take the program back, but I haven’t made any progress on that since we achieved access to the monitors. So Kirigiri-san suggested that we try a method that doesn’t actually require us to change the programming, or eliminate the virus. I just started playing with it so I don’t know…”

“Keep at it.” I say this out loud before realizing that I need to type, so I type it in. _Keep at it. Whatever you’re doing is working. She’s nervous, and that means we’re close. I know it._

Alter Ego brightens. “Thank you, Naegi. I’ll do my best.”

Togami looks like he thinks I’ve finally lost it, but Kyoko smiles genuinely, and I brim with pride. Whatever the method is, whatever they were talking about when I entered, for now, it doesn’t concern me. Because for the first time in forever, we’re winning again.

***

I go back to watching the monitors while Alter Ego gets to work on its new approach. I’ve taken to sitting on the beach a lot. I can’t stray from the main island without the signal going out, but it’s a big enough, so I get up and walk the coastline sometimes for a shift in view. It’s a nice distraction, seeing the waves come in and out. It helps me stay calm, and though I’ve been improving, I need that. 

After a few days, I get up the courage to change the object of my focus from the other eight survivors to the one thing I have been too scared to confront. Since the last trial, I’ve tried to deal with Komaeda’s existence by pretending he doesn’t exist - a strategy which was, obviously, doomed to fail eventually. It hasn’t yet, not really, but I decide to stop trying anyway. If I’m going to get through this - get better, as Kyoko puts it - then there’s no putting this off any longer.

I ask Togami to look up information on him for me. He raises his eyebrows, but no objection, and by the end of the day, I have more paperwork about Nagito Komaeda in my hands than I know what to do with. I scan most of it before reading anything, select words flashing in my mind: _plane crash, lottery, luck, exile, servant, despair._ It’s surreal, like an alternate version of how my life might have been, and at first I feel trapped by it, rethinking moment after moment of confluence and divergence, similarities, differences. I wonder if I only avoided his fate because my luck never turned against me. I did think it had, for a time, but then I survived. When so many others didn’t, I survived. Even my sister survived - I have family, which is more even than I’d hoped. More than Komaeda had. Whatever the odds were, whether it was luck or fate, I didn’t have his life; I survived, and I remember that over and over until I calm down.

I’m not sure that Komaeda really survived.

His heart is beating. His brain still works, and around here – around the world – he is lucky for that alone. Or maybe he’s not – maybe he’s so unlucky there are no words for it. A talent that killed his family and a future with nothing to hope for and a quick whisper from Junko Enoshima in his ear doesn’t seem so lucky to me, whatever the titles say. He is alive, and as long as that’s true, I’ll fight to the death to protect him right along with the rest. But I’m starting to learn that being alive doesn’t always make you a survivor.

I know I’ll never reconcile it completely. He’s too much like me, and too much not like me, to make him really make sense. And he does scare me, if only because he’s a threat to what small peace they’ve managed to establish. But when I read his files, when I watch him load 5 bullets into a 6 chamber gun like it’s nothing, even when he digs up the folder, I don’t just sit there scared: I pity him.

Somehow, it makes him look less like me.

As for Nidai and Gundam – I don’t know how I feel. I feel a lot of things; I lose count of feeling. It’s so sad – I’m adjusted to sadness, but it’s sad, all this death. I think of Sakura, and it’s sad. At the same time, and for the same reasons, it’s hopeful. Gundam didn’t kill because he wanted to, because of despair or for personal gain. Nidai didn’t die for it either. With no other option, knowing what it meant, they did what they did to save their friends. It’s hope, even in the darkest place, and it’s incredible. And I am furious.

It feels kind of wrong. It’s justified, but it still feels wrong: I’m not used to fury, I don’t get angry. Fear, sadness, hope – I have never felt it bleed into anger. I’ve never been inclined to. There’s always been too much else on my mind, and too much else to do. I have seen anger, in the members of the Future Foundation, in Togami and Fukawa, even in Kyoko. I haven’t felt it. 

But now, suddenly, it all comes together. What happened to Nidai, to Gundam, to the others, having to kill him. What happened to all of them from the very beginning, things neither they nor I can remember. What happened to us, and all of our friends. It’s her fault – the death of my parents, of Kyoko’s father, of Togami’s whole family and so many others, it was her. People are dying because of her still, and she’s not even alive any more. And I'm furious.

I confess this to Kyoko over dinner after we finish making Nidai and Gundam’s graves and Togami’s gone to the library for the night. She looks at me blankly before setting her cup down and looking into her lap as if trying to find words.

“Only you could lead an army without knowing what it’s like to be angry.” She says, and it’s strangely fond. “Don’t worry about it, Naegi. Don’t fear it, anyway. That would only make things worse. It’s a natural impulse, and it can even be useful, as long as you don’t let it take you over. When it does go too far…” She trails off then, looking at her lap, and when she looks back up there’s a hard set to her face well beyond what I’m used to. “Well, don’t let it.”

“Do you really trust me to do that?” I ask.

She pauses for a moment, then smiles. “I already told you that I’m leaving this in your hands. But as for this particular matter, no, I’m not worried. I'm actually sort of happy.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because the fact that you’re angry means that you still care.” She says.

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. Kyoko picks up her dishes and carries them to the kitchen, and I follow. I’m not as comfortable as she is with the idea of anger, let alone the experience of it, and I don’t have any intention of using it at the very least. But now that I know she believes in me – that, realistically, she never stopped believing in me – I really do feel like things are turning out okay.

***

The next week is one of the longest of my life. My depression over the situation in the school has transformed back into hope, and with it restlessness. Doubly so when Alter Ego says it will be ready to put its plan into motion any day now. I still don’t know the details, and my friends are being so cagey about them that it makes me nervous, but the point remains. No matter what happens, this is going to end once and for all very soon. Until then, the moments are dragging into hours.

It’s not just me – it’s gotten to Kyoko and Togami too. I’ve done as much detective work as they have, I can tell when they move. He fidgets in his chair whenever he sits down, and she paces, which I’ve never even seen her do before, high heels clacking out a rhythm on the linoleum. They’re meaner when they talk, too, although it’s hard to tell with Togami. I want to know what’s happening, to be updated and ready. But between the two of them (and poor Alter Ego, trying to respond to their increasingly terse requests politely,) being in the control room makes me want to explode.

I try going to the beach, but it doesn’t help any more. The whole island feels thick with tension, and I imagine that our anxiety has settled into the air itself, humidity stifling my throat and lungs so that my whole body feels charged, but heavy. Walking around is okay, since I can channel my energy into my strides, but there’s only so long I can do it before I get tired – I’m not in very good shape these days.

The only place on the whole archipelago that lets me calm down is the graveyard. It’s morbid, and I know it doesn’t say anything good as to my mental health, so I avoid letting Kyoko know. It’s not like that, though - I just like it there. I was never religious before now, and I don’t think I am now. And there’s no real bodies here anyway. All the same, it feels calm, a lot calmer than anywhere else does. So I stay there, reading and re-reading the names carved into the stones until they are carved just as irreversibly into my mind. I didn’t know any of these people, and I barely even watched most of them, but I know I need to remember them. Someone needs to remember them.

After a few days, Kyoko knocks on my door after I’ve turned in for the night and says we need to talk.

I feel bad about it, for a lot of reasons, but the first thing out of my mouth when she finishes is “I wish you would have told me sooner.”

“I didn’t know what effect it might have on you.”

“I needed for you to trust me.” I insist, shaking my head. “I know that you thought you couldn’t, and I know why, but I needed that, and you didn’t give it to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“What more would you have me say?” She asks. “Is there anything I could say to change your mind? I wouldn’t if I could. I betrayed you, I don’t expect you to forgive me for that. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you, Naegi, I want to be honest but I don’t know. I’m tired of this place, I haven’t been myself here any more than you have. I don’t know what I’m doing - I’ve tried to protect them and I’ve tried to protect you and I’ve tried a lot of things, but I don’t think it worked. All I really want is to get out of here before it’s too late, for me and for you and for them and for all of us. So I’m asking you please – please let me get us out of here.”

I want to reply, to comfort her or argue with her or do anything at all, but something in her words catches my ear, and whatever I was going to say vanishes. “What do you mean by ‘let you’?”

“I’m not doing it without your permission.” She says. “I know I haven’t really helped you, despite my attempts, or trusted you when I should have. As my friend, as my leader – I don’t know. I won’t ask you to forgive me, and I couldn’t accept it. But I can put my trust in you now. It’s all I can do. So if you don’t want to go through with this, if you want to ride it out until we find another solution, or anything at all, do it, and I’ll follow you. No matter what you choose.”

I am blown away. All I can think to say is “What about Togami?”

“I don’t know. To be honest, I haven’t told him. But he can’t put the plan into motion without my help. I talked to Alter Ego about it, I’m sure.”

“… _Why?_ ”

She shrugs. “As I said. It’s all I could do.”

“… I’ll have to think about it.”

After she leaves, I try to sleep, but it doesn’t come. Even when I put my thoughts aside, I’m left with a nothingness inside my head so frightening that I let my mind wander back just to escape.

Finally, I push the blankets on my bed aside, throw on a coat, and walk outside. It must be at least 12 AM by now, but I don’t care - it’s not like there’s anything dangerous here. With the night sky stretched above me, I walk to the beach where our ship is moored and lay on the sand, staring at the sky and stars.

I don’t want to do it. The thought of all our hard work amounting to that and nothing more is hideous to me. It’s a gut reaction, churning my heart, heating my blood, it makes me feel sick. I don’t want to do this.

But this is not about what I want; it’s about what’s best for them. Isn’t that what I should want? If they got stuck here forever – would that be better, or worse? I know we could ride it out. Even if we couldn’t get rid of Junko, or get them out right away, we could wait. And while we did, they'd have their hope. All of the progress they’ve made – they could keep it.

But they’d be stuck. I know what it’s like to be trapped, but this is worse than trapped: this is frozen, forever. Worse, they would probably be frozen with her – I know better than to think Junko will annihilate herself twice, even I’m not that lucky. Maybe Alter Ego could write her out eventually, or wake them up. But maybe isn’t good enough, not with the Future Foundation on our tail. We managed to get away once, but if they found us now, with just Kyoko, Togami and I, we wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d be dead just like that, all of them, completely this time. I can’t let that happen.

What’s best for them. Is that even something I can decide on my own? Kyoko apparently thinks so. Or maybe it’s just a show of loyalty; either way, I appreciate it. I know she’s right – I have to decide this, as hard as it is. Even if I don’t know what I’m doing. Really, I haven’t known what I’m doing for a long time. The only reason I’m questioning it now is that the last few weeks have been the first time in two years I’ve had the time to think about these things. About whether I’m comfortable being a leader, or qualified to do it, or whether I’m happy. I still don’t know the answers, but I know that I’m done thinking. Kyoko is right - we can’t stay here any more. Life is found in movement, and hope, and things that aren’t here no matter how hard I look. I won't deceive myself into believing that they'll find them either, if they stay frozen like this.

I pick myself up, dust the sand off my clothes, and walk back to Kyoko’s room. She is awake when I knock on her door; I didn’t expect anything less.

“We’ll do it.”

The next day, while we are finishing the plan, Komaeda, Usami, and Nanami die, and I am so busy I barely notice.

***

Within a few hours, Alter Ego tells us that it’s time. If we have any business left on the island, we ought to take care of it now. Unspoken goes the actual message: if we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility of dying here, we need to do it now.

After excusing ourselves with Togami, Kyoko and I go to the ship. The bridge is shockingly dark and empty compared to the tropical light outside, and it takes me a few blinks to adjust. It feels cramped, and the sensation is all the more unnerving knowing what I’m about to enter into. I decide to take care of this as quickly as possible.

Kyoko doesn’t speak as she hunches over the terminal. After she presses a few buttons, the display monitor comes to life, along with the cabin overhead lights. With that done, she flicks a few switches and then tells me that it’s rolling. I jump, noticing my face has appeared on the monitor in a mirror image, a red blinking light in the corner. The camera feels awkward, and for a few seconds I just stare before remembering what I’m actually here to do. I didn’t make a script, and I briefly wish I had planned one, but it’s too late now, so I just talk.

“Hello – this is Naegi Makoto, speaking on behalf of Kirigiri Kyoko and Togami Byakuya. If you’re seeing this message, it means that we are dead. Or mostly dead, anyway. I’m sorry – I wish I could tell you this in person, but I guess that didn’t happen. I don’t know who you are - if you agreed with me, or didn’t. If you’re someone with the Future Foundation, or if you’re one of the other survivors, Fukawa, Asahina – or Komaru. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I died before I had a chance to explain myself properly. I’m sorry I couldn’t see the world be saved, but I know that you’ll do it without me. I believe in you, just like I believe in everyone. That’s exactly why we did this.

“I believed in them. I guess I was wrong about that, if you’re watching this, so I hope you’re not. If you are, though, then I want you to know that it’s okay. Because I know now that whatever happens next, I wasn’t really wrong. They’re people – they’re people just like we are. Under the surface, there’s hope for them, just like there is for all of us. I’ve been watching them for a while, and I know it. You’d know it too if you saw. So even if we failed, even if I’m dead, I know that I was right to try.

“All I want now – if you’re watching this, my last wishes – is for you to try and see it too. I want you to believe me, and no matter what’s happened to us or to them, please, please – please don’t kill them. There is always hope. The world can be saved, and they can too. Given the chance, the time, the place, they could have hope again. So don’t kill them. Souda Kazuichi, Sonia Nevermind, Owari Akane, Kuzyryuu Fuyuhiko, and Hinata Hajime. The rest too - they’re survivors, just like us. And whatever happens, they should stay that way. Don’t kill them. I’m begging you, don’t kill them. And one day, I promise, they will thank you.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

Kyoko hits a button and the video stops recording as tears start falling down my face. She takes two steps across the room and wraps me in her arms, and I bury my face in her shoulder and let myself cry.

For the last time, we go back to the island.

**Author's Note:**

> Sad fanfiction about Naegi Makoto is hard to write and I'm not entirely satisfied with my results here. That said, I hope you've enjoyed it anyway.
> 
> Thanks to [aegisaglow](http://aegisaglow.tumblr.com/) for being just the best beta reader ever.
> 
> Title is from "Golden Boy" by Barenaked Ladies.


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